


Be graceful in defeat

by begracefulindefeat (yoi99)



Series: The aftermath of the Community Shield [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Manchester City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:09:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoi99/pseuds/begracefulindefeat
Summary: “Trent come on,” Jordan continued, a bit more sternly this time. “We’ve talked about this. A loss is a loss, it’s not the end of the world. Be graceful in defeat remember? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”





	Be graceful in defeat

If Jordan Henderson had to make a list of things he hated, having to cheer up his team after a defeat would probably make top 3. 

Jordan loved being a skipper, it was one of the most satisfying parts of playing football and, if he had to be honest, he didn’t think he was a bad leader. But losing hurt him as much as it hurt others and there were some times (like when they lost the Prem or right now when they had been so close to finally beating City and winning a title) when he just wished he could hide and cry in peace.

Instead, here he was, telling everybody what a great job they had done and how the next time they would get it. All the muscles in his body ached, his head was pounding, and he was killing to get into the hot tub and forget about the whole match for a while… if only something didn’t feel so off. 

“How are we doing skip?” 

Jordan turned to Virgil, who he hadn’t realized was standing beside him, and shrugged. “Hanging in there. You?”

“As good as one can be,” Virgil stretched and turned to face in the other direction. “I’m going to check up on Gini, you might want to do the same.”

The Dutchman patted Hendo on the back and headed towards where Gini was absently picking up his things. Jordan couldn’t help but smile sympathetically as the huge defender wrapped his arms around his fellow countryman. It had been a really good penalty save and it wasn’t really Gini’s fault, but he knew nothing any of them could tell him was going to make him feel better, at least for some days. He had told Gini just that right when he came into the dressing room, so he didn’t quite get while Virgil had told him to check up on him. 

It was then when he realized what was that had felt off before. He had checked up on every single one of his teammates except the most important one.

Trent.

Just as Jordan expected, he found the right back curled in a corner of the dressing room, still fully clothed but with his shoes off, distractedly scrolling through his phone. 

He sighed and kneeled in front of him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, resting his hand in Trent’s knee.

Trent shook off his hand immediately, bringing his leg up to meet with his chest. “I’m fine Hendo, don’t worry about it,” he replied, without looking up from his phone.

Jordan chuckled, a bit more bitterly and loudly than he wanted, making Trent’s gaze snap from his phone and look at him in that mix of anger and a childish pout so unique of him. “What’s so funny?”

“You are funny,” Trent frowned. “I mean, the fact that you still think I’m going to buy that is funny.”

“I am fine,” the young defender insisted.

Jordan shook his head. “You are clearly not fine,” he stopped mid-sentence. “But we don’t have to talk about it now,” he continued, once he realized how offended Trent looked and what that meant. “Go get a shower and get changed, okay?”

He ruffled Trent’s hair, making him move away with a whine, and went back to his spot in the bench next to Adam.

At least, from the corner of his eye, he could see Trent start to undress. The meltdown could wait a few more minutes. 

The train ride to Liverpool was silent for the most part.

The majority of the team used the trip home to catch up with some sleep. After all, it had been a few really intense weeks of preseason and they were all eager for some rest. Jordan himself was drifting to sleep when he saw Trent sneaking to one of the adjacent wagons they had all to themselves. Jordan groaned underneath his breath.

“Hendo…” Virgil started, from the row of seats behind him.

“Yeah, yeah. I saw,” he replied, starting to get up. “You sure you don’t want to give it a try? You did well as a skipper on the pitch.”

“Nice try Henderson, but I think I’d rather leave it up to you.”

Jordan sighed. “We’ll be back soon.”

This time, Jordan found Trent laying on his back across two seats, screaming into a pillow. He shook his head: definitely not fine. 

“Do you think maybe now we can talk about it?” the skipper asked, sitting down in the armrest across Trent.

The younger player lifted his head from the pillow shyly, and took no time to wipe his eyes, shiny from tears. 

“I’m fine,” Trent croaked while sitting up, ever so stubborn.

“Trent.”

“I said I’m fine!”

Jordan took a deep breath. Trent easily lost his nerves when something didn’t go his way, but he barely ever screamed. 

This was going to be worse than expected.

The skipper stood up and sat next to Trent, who had once again curled into a ball, looking outside the window as if the landscape they had seen thousands of times before was the most interesting thing ever.

“Hey,” Jordan said softly, resting his hand on Trent’s thigh. This time, the defender didn’t make any move to shake it off. “Trent, come on, look at me.”

The twenty-year-old gazed at him warily. Jordan gave him the most comforting smile he had. 

“I thought we were over this.” Trent shrugged. “Trent come on, we did our best, the season is far from over, next time will be our time, yeah?”

The right-back stayed silent, turning his gaze back to the window. Jordan rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. 

“Trent come on,” he continued, a bit more sternly this time. “We’ve talked about this. A loss is a loss, it’s not the end of the world. Be graceful in defeat remember? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Trent stared back at him; it was a stone-cold look that made Jordan’s heart shrink. “Oh, come on Hendo, you know I sucked today, you were there.”

“I mean,” Jordan hesitated. “Sure, it was definitely not your best game today, but you can’t let that bring you down at the start of the season.”

Trent chuckled bitterly. “Wasn’t my best game? It’s probably the worst game I played in months.”

“It’s preseason.”

“We could have gotten another trophy Hendo! But no, we had to lose it to City. Again.”

“Okay, let’s do one thing. Since you can’t seem to let this go, how about we try to fix us another goal: the European Supercup is in two weeks. Enough time to get ready and grab another trophy, how about that?” he said, trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

“Are you even listening to me?” Trent whined. “I said I don’t care about the stupid loss, I care about my performance. Ugh, what if I just had one good year?”

Jordan felt his patience snap. “For Christ sake, Trent! Snap out of it! Yes, you had a bad game. No, that doesn’t make you less of a great player. Now can you just listen to me for a second? You have a whole season in front of you to amend all your mistakes.”

“I am listening! Now I can’t be upset when I am not at my best?”

Jordan clenched his jaw. He knew he had to keep his cool if he didn’t want this to turn into a screaming match. “I didn’t say that.”

Trent huffed. “Yes, you did,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

The skipper took another deep breath. He knew it was impossible to have a conversation with Trent when he got like that. He had really thought that they had made some progress on how the young right-back dealt with losing last year, but apparently it had just been a one-time thing.

“Okay,” Trent looked at him with a slight frown. “Since you don’t want to listen to me as your boyfriend and best friend, you’ll have to listen to me as your skipper.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

Jordan interrupted him. “Be quiet, the adult is doing the talking now.”

Trent opened his mouth to complain, cheeks red in indignation from Jordan’s last statement, but the skipper’s serious look made him close it again.

“I can understand you being frustrated. You’ve had a few great months, both as an individual player and as a team. But today we lost. And today you didn’t play as well as you and I know you can play. Why? I don’t know, you do your thinking. My guess? We played City and there was a trophy at stake and you wanted it all so much: not just the trophy, but the recognition and to live up to that stupid tag someone has decided to give you. Best right-back in the world? Sure, why not. Someone has to be the best and you’ve definitely lived up to the expectations. The thing is, the tag is supposed to help you thrive, Trent. Be better. But that doesn’t mean you are less of that normal lad from Liverpool whose dream has come true.”

Trent’s blush deepened, and he opened his mouth to answer, but Jordan interrupted him once again.

“I’m not done,” he said, eying Trent seriously. “That being said. I can tolerate you loosing your calm and pushing every City winger that comes across you, and I can tolerate you pouting and squirming around in your seat because you wanted to play the full match. But if there is one thing I won’t tolerate, and I can’t believe I have to tell you this, is you disrespecting our fans. If the fans want a high five, you give them a high five, a picture, whatever on Earth they want, no matter how upset you are and how much you’d kill to be alone. Am I clear?”

Jordan realized he was yelling a bit at the end and wondered if maybe he had been too harsh when Trent nodded shyly, not saying a word.

He sighed. “And I say all of that because I care about you and I don’t want you getting in trouble with the fans or the media. Okay?” Trent nodded again. “Now, if you want to pout, you are free to do so, but you’ll have to do it with everybody.”

“But Hendo I really want to be alone,” Trent finally replied.

“Tough live, lad. Now come on,” he insisted, patting Trent’s hip softly.

The defender groaned but extended his arm towards Hendo. The skipper helped him up and wrapped his arm around his shoulders before heading to the wagon where everyone else was still sleeping.

Trent did indeed pout for the rest of the trip. He ignored Hendo too, a bit mad that he had used the skipper card and lectured him as if he had gone back to being the sore loser he was when he was eighteen. Because he wasn’t.

When they finally arrived in Liverpool, he absently listened to Klopp’s instructions for practice the next day before he called a cab to head home. It was when he found himself standing at the door of his parent’s house when he realized how much he didn’t want to be there at the moment. He just wanted to eat dinner, curl up in a ball and sleep. He loved his family to death and they were the most important thing in the world to him, but he couldn’t deal with it right now. The loss was too recent.

He had officially moved out a few months ago, but still spent most of his time at home. Trent didn’t particularly like being alone, so he’d rathered stay with his parents and his brothers than on his own. Then Hendo happened and the dynamic changed a bit: sometimes he slept at his house, sometimes at Hendo’s, sometimes at home with his family… it really depended on the day and on his mood. The day’s plan had been to spend the night with the family, considering he had been away with Liverpool for a few weeks, but after the afternoon’s events the situation had changed.

Trent sighed and opened the door carefully. The least he could do was say hi and give an explanation (and while he was at it steal some dinner to bring home). He was greeted by his older brother Tyler and his father on the living room couch, to whom he waved unenthusiastically. His father laughed loudly: he had been the first to ever tell Trent he was a sore loser.

“Not your day, right son?”

Trent shook his head and plopped down on the sofa next to him, groaning. “Worst day ever.”

His father chuckled again, to the annoyance of the defender. “If every time you said it was the worst day ever was actually the worst day ever, you’d live a life of misery, Trent.”

“It’s one of the worst days ever,” Trent corrected with a pout.

Marcel’s head popped out from the kitchen. “Trent!” he yelled enthusiastically before running to hug his older brother before proceeding to ask him all the details from the match. Trent grimaced. 

It was something that Marcel did, asking him about matches, no matter the result, and usually Trent patiently told him all about them (even though his brother had watched them on TV if not live), but on the days he wasn’t on the mood it became a really annoying trait.

“Not today, Marcel.”

“Aw, but…”

“No buts, I said not today,” Trent insisted, while he stood up. “I’m going to say hi to Mum and I’ll head home, I’m tired.”

Tyler raised a questioning eyebrow. “I thought you were staying today.”

“I just told you: I’m tired.”

His brother smirked. “Is it because you lost?”

Trent felt his cheeks burn. “No, it’s not,” he snapped.

“It’s because you lost,” Tyler insisted, teasingly.

“It’s not because I lost, Tyler.”

“Of course, it is.”

“I said it’s not- “

“Lads that’s enough,” his father interrupted. “If he says he is tired, he is tired, Tyler. Trent go say hi to your mother.”

Still pouting, Trent headed to the kitchen where his mother was absorbed in cooking whatever she was cooking. 

“I can get you a cook, you know?”

His mother turned around suddenly, her face a mix of surprise and fear. “Jesus Christ, Trent! Don’t give me a scare like that!” she lectured, slapping him playfully with the wooden spoon before holding her arms out. “Come here, sweetie. How have you been?”

Trent gladly took the hug, burying his face on the top of his mother’s hair. “I’ve been better.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed Trent’s forehead. “We are still all very proud of you, you know that right?”

A small smile formed in Trent’s lips. “Yes, Mum I know. But- ”

The red-haired woman stroked her son’s face affectionately. “Let me guess, you aren’t staying for dinner, are you?”

Trent blinked in shock. “Yeah. H-how did you…?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m your mother. If I couldn’t sense when you aren’t in the mood for family dinner, I wouldn’t be doing my job right.”

“Well, yes but now that I see you’ve already made dinner and all… I sort of feel bad for not staying,” Trent said, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Nonsense. I felt this coming, so I made a lunch box for you to take home,” she said, heading to the fridge and getting the recipient with a ration of the meal. “I put some extra sweet potatoes because I know how much you like them,” she added with a wink.

“Thanks Mum, you are the best,” Trent said hugging her tightly.

He kissed her cheek one more time before grabbing the lunch box and going to see off the rest of his family in the living room. He hugged his father and Marcel goodbye and stuck his tongue out at Tyler, still bitter about the small argument they had, and promised them to come by tomorrow for some family time.

When he left the house, he debated whether to call another cab to drive him home or simply ask his parents, but then decided against it, thinking a walk would do him good. 

As he walked back home, which wasn’t more than 10 minutes away by foot, he tried to reflect about the match and the hundred mistakes he felt he had committed. Trent blushed when he realized he probably was going to have to apologize to Raz for pushing him so much when they met for the next international break. He thought about what Hendo said too: if he had to be honest with himself, he had given a lot of thought to the whole right back thing. At first, he had brushed it off, trying to focus on the fact that he was just lucky in so many ways, so as not to let it get to his head. Later on, when Hendo had mentioned it a few times, the name had made him feel a huge sense of pride; but some time later, he had started to get anxiety about it, specially during preseason and with the start of a new season coming close. Last year had really been his year in many ways (he loved teasing Jesse about the whole assist thing), but he was afraid he was going to screw up and not live up to the expectations everyone suddenly had. 

Not that he could tell that to anybody, because then the baby jokes would start and if there was one thing that Trent hated almost more than losing where the bloody baby jokes. 

After what only felt like a few seconds, Trent realized he was standing in front of his front door. He opened it with a deep breath, glad to finally be home. Once inside, he let his body slid to the floor, and sat down without moving, head resting back against the door, for what felt like ages. Suddenly, coming home alone wasn’t such a good idea anymore. His mind was starting to wonder, and Trent knew that if he started to overthink, he wasn’t going to get any sleep and the next day would be even worse than the present.

He sighed, and stood up with difficulty, suddenly aware of his aching muscles. He took off his shoes and walked barefooted to the sofa, where he threw his backpack. He stood there for a few seconds, taking a look around the house and noticing how empty and lonely it felt. 

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself.

He took out the lunch box his mother had made him, heading towards the kitchen to heat it up in the microwave, when the doorbell rang.

Trent frowned. He wasn’t expecting any visits, especially considering he was supposed to be at his parents tonight. Cautiously, he put down the lunch box on the kitchen counter and went to see who in Earth it was. 

It could really only be one person. However, Trent felt his face lighten up when he saw Hendo's face standing at the other side of the door.

He rushed to open and threw himself into the skipper's arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Hendo," he repeated over and over again.

And even though he felt tears starting to prickle on the back of his eyes, and his world was slowly crushing down on him, Jordan wrapping his arms around him made him feel safe.

It made him feel home.

"It's okay, kid. I know you are," the captain said softly, kissing Trent's hair. 

He let Jordan close the door with his foot, not letting go of him for a second, jumping on his neck as soon as he put his backpack down.

Jordan carried him to the sofa effortlessly, after all Trent weighted almost nothing (or that's what Hendo said at least), and sat him on his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it now? Without making a fuss?" 

Trent nodded, sniffling. Jordan smiled fondly, and pecked him on the lips encouragingly. 

And the right-back told him everything.

How much he had wanted a trophy. How he felt that maybe the whole 'best right-back in the world' thing was too big for him. How much City annoyed him. How he felt bad that Sané was injured. How fast wingers like the German and Raheem always seem to get out of his reach. How he hadn't felt that good with his performance throughout preseason. 

How much he still hated losing.

Hendo listened to him without saying a word. Throughout Trent's rambling, he held the defender close to him in his lap, petting his hair and wiping the few stray tears that managed to escape his eyes.

When Trent was done, he just became quiet, playing with a loose string of a pillow in Jordan's lap. 

The captain ran a hand through Trent's short curls. "Better?" 

The younger man shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Jordan shifted Trent on his lap so that they were facing each other. "Now, was that so hard to tell?"

Trent shrugged again. "I guess not."

"And you couldn't have told me that in the locker room so I didn't have to be worried sick about you?" Hendo scolded him playfully.

Trent couldn't help but smirk a bit at that. "If I recall correctly, we only lost a match, nothing to make you worried sick about me."

"The smallest thing makes me worried sick about you, Trent. The last thing I want you to be is unhappy."

He could barely finish the sentence, because Trent crashed their lips together almost furiously.

"Where did that come from?" He asked, after pulling apart.

"Stop worrying about me, I'm a grown man."

"A grown man with childish behavior."

"Oh, shush."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and hope you liked it!!! Feedback is accepted, good or bad 🙊💕


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